


Infinite Sadness

by ambiguous_nights



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt, M/M, Rating May Change, Some comfort, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 17,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25984780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguous_nights/pseuds/ambiguous_nights
Summary: A collection Obi-wan whump fics written for Bad Things Happen BingoIndividual chapters will have their own warnings listed.Some of the prompts are now being used in my other fic,Caged
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Asajj Ventress
Comments: 78
Kudos: 214
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	1. Ear Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for injury

The constant ringing in his ears is startling to annoy him. After years of dealing with Anakin’s shenanigans, Obi-wan would have thought he had more patience dealing with irritants. It is only adding to his frustration. During the last battle, a bombing run by the droids had strayed a little too close to Obi-wan and had ruptured his ears drums badly enough that Helix hadn’t been able to repair it immediately. He has a surgery scheduled tomorrow instead of today because the medics are still overwhelmed by the casualties of the last battle. Obi-wan’s injury isn’t life-threatening, so he has to wait.

Obi-wan runs his fingers through his hair. He’s been avoiding everyone on the ship after his last attempt at speaking had resulted in him accidently yelling at one the shinies since he wasn’t aware of his own volume. After thoroughly traumatizing the shiny, Obi-wan had apologized profusely, then tried galactic sign language. The clones knew a variation for battles, but not enough for conversation.

It had been frustrating, so Obi-wan had retreated to his room to wait. Anakin had commed him, but Obi-wan had responded via text instead of voice. He hadn’t wanted to worry Anakin. His former padawan is in the middle of a battle. It wouldn’t do for him to be distracted.

Obi-wan rolls over on his bed and tries not to throw up. His damaged ears have left him with severe vertigo. He’s already thrown up multiple times and is drenched in sweat. He wants to shower but moving feels like the worst decision he could possibly make.

A light flashes in his room. Obi-wan frowns, then reaches out with the Force. He finds Cody standing outside his door. Obi-wan shifts slightly to see the door. A wave of nausea passes through him and he stills.

Cody had opened the door slightly and stuck a flashlight through the gap since he knew Obi-wan wouldn’t be able to hear the buzzer. It flickers twice before retreating, the door closing behind it.

Obi-wan really doesn’t want Cody to see him like this, but they’ve talked before about Obi-wan’s tendency to hide his injuries and weaknesses. Obi-wan’s been working on being more open with Cody and being aware of his need to present a brave face to the galaxy. Now seems as good a time as any to extend the same trust to Cody that Cody has offered him. He waves his hand, opening the door.

Cody says something, then holds up a piece of paper he had written on. The words are blurred by Obi-wan’s hazy vision. Obi-wan groans and closes his eyes. Cody’s hand gently cards through his sweaty hair as he decides not to try to communicate with words. They know each other well enough that they don’t have to.

Obi-wan squints up at him as Cody holds out a glass of water. He looks like he’s expecting a refusal, but the sight of water ignites Obi-wan’s thirst. He reaches for the water. Cody helps him sit up and waits for Obi-wan’s stomach to settle before letting him take a few small sips of water.

Cody gently rubs Obi-wan’s shoulder, then stands up. He gently pulls the sheets out from under Obi-wan and replaces them with clean ones. He takes a wet rag out of the refresher and gently pats Obi-wan’s face. Obi-wan hums happily as Cody cleans off the flecks of vomit that had gotten caught in his beard.

Cody slowly helps Obi-wan undress, understanding the gentle taps of the Force Obi-wan uses in an attempt to communicate. They’ve known each other long enough that Cody is able to realize Obi-wan’s discomfort and try to help him through it. They’ve been lovers long enough that Cody knows Obi-wan’s limits and the moods associated with them.

Obi-wan smiles slightly as Cody helps him into clean sleep clothes, but then the vertigo comes back with a vengeance.

Obi-wan throws up, though Cody is there with a trash can and a comforting hand on his back. He doesn’t turn away in disgust when Obi-wan finishes. Instead, he removes the trash can and brings Obi-wan some water to wash out his mouth with.

Cody doesn’t try to speak to him. He doesn’t have to. They’ve always been comfortable with silence, so long as they are together.

Obi-wan lays down again, intent on taking a nap and not waking up until Helix summons him. Cody pats his hair and lays down beside him. He keeps a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder, though he ensures that he still gives Obi-wan’s the space he needs.

Obi-wan smiles and closes his eyes.


	2. Mouth Stitched Shut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Ventress is betrayed by Dooku, only she goes down a much darker path than in canon
> 
> Warning for blood and gore

Obi-wan gasps awake and flails but finds that his arms are bound to the table he’s lying on. He squints at the brilliant light above him and tries to put the pieces together. He remembers the negotiations he had spent the last few days leading. They had been tense, though not difficult. Both sides were desperate for peace. Their planetary war wasn’t economically sustainable with a galaxy wide war draining resources. He hadn’t through anyone would resort to kidnapping to get what they want.

Obi-wan pulls at his bound wrists, but there is no give in the cuffs. His ankles too are bound just as firmly. He jerks his body but finds the table to be bolted to the floor and heavy enough to not even shake with his movements. He looks around the room but sees nothing. The only source of light is the spotlight above his body, effectively blinding him to anything outside the circle of light.

He taps the table and tries not to grow impatient. He is usually a very patient man, but not when he’s locked in a dungeon with strangely quiet captors.

Obi-wan tugs at the chains again, then settles down. He reaches out with the Force but finds nothing. No life, no sound, nothing. It’s as if he’s on a desolate planet, one entirely without life. Even spaceships have insects and bugs living in them. This is too quiet. Only the Sith could achieve something like this.

“Hello darling,” a sweet voice says. Obi-wan raises his head, but Ventress pushes it back down as she appears out of the shadows behind him.

“Ventress,” Obi-wan says. His mind scrambles to rationalize how she is here. She’s supposed to be half-way across the galaxy, not kidnapping him in the middle of what was essentially a vacation for him. She must have drugged him, though he can’t figure out how. The last thing he remembers was speaking with one of the diplomats. Amnesia is a common enough side effect of most of those drugs that he doubts he’ll ever remember. “How nice to see you again.”

Ventress smiles down at him. “And you as well, my dear,” she says. “Though I’m afraid our wonderful bantering will have to come to an end.”

Obi-wan raises an eyebrow. “Threatening to kill me, my sweet? Seems like a waste of effort now,” he says, pointedly tugging on the manacles.

“No, no,” she says. She abruptly swings herself onto the table and seats herself on Obi-wan’s chest. “I’ve got something much better planned.”

“And what would that be?” Obi-wan asks as she leans forward to pull a strap over his forehead, pinning his head to the table. She pulls a second strap over his shoulders and chest.

“You’ll see,” she says as she pats his cheek. Obi-wan tugs at the manacles again. He considers trying to summon Ventress’s lightsabers, but she was smart enough not to bring them into the room with her.

He grunts as a heavy weight settles over mouth, silencing him. He glares at Ventress as she uses the Force to hold his mouth still. He tries to use the Force to push her off, but she doesn’t budge. “Hold still,” she says as pulls out a curved needle and a spool of thread. Obi-wan can only watch in confusion as she licks the thread and sends it through the eye of the needle. She leans forward and the tip of the needle touches his lips.

Obi-wan’s eyes widen as he realizes what she means to do. He senses her glee at his horror. He yanks at his cuffs and tries again to knock her off, but she remains steady. Her eyes glisten gold as the needle punctures the skin.

Obi-wan’s fists ball as the needle digs through his lip, then pulls through, the thread trailing after it. The needle enters his lower lip and pushes through. She circles around to his upper lip, impaling the skin again to complete the first stitch.

She moves agonizingly slowly as she stitches his mouth closed. She dabs away the blood as she works. One stich. Two stitches. Tears trickle down his face. He yanks at the manacles until his wrists and ankles are bruised. Half a dozen. She completes the eighth stitch, sealing Obi-wan’s mouth closed, and ties off the string.

“Much better,” she says.

Obi-wan moans as she presses a bandage over his mouth. The taste of bacta reaches his tongue and his struggles renew. The bacta will heal the holes she made, making it far more difficult to remove the thread. Knowing Ventress, it is a durasteel thread, impossible to cut through without a lightsaber or laser cutter. He dreads the thought of the Jedi healers try to unthread it later.

“Oh, Obi-wan,” Ventress says picking up his thoughts as a flicker of green mist trails from her fingers towards his mouth. He senses its interaction with the thread, melting the knot into place. “You aren’t going back to the Jedi. You’re mine now.”


	3. Revenge by Proxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for non-graphic torture to death

“Wake up, Kenobi,” Maul says. 

Obi-wan opens his eyes to find Maul standing before him. Obi-wan had been on Coruscant, mere minutes away from departing with the 212th to Utapau, when a stun grenade had gone off and knocked him out. He had been distracted by everything going on with Anakin to sense the danger before it was too late. His former apprentice is only growing more closed off and angry, especially in these past few days. Obi-wan has tried to reach out to him, even asking Ahsoka for her help, but hadn’t been successful. He had hoped that after Utapau and Grievous, after the war was over, he would the time to talk to Anakin. It seems Maul has other plans.

“Maul,” Obi-wan says as he subtly tests his restraints and examines his surroundings. Maul has him strung up by his wrists in a dim humid room. His shoulders aren’t screaming in pain, so it seems Maul had only restrained him just before waking him up. Odd. He would have thought Maul’s goal was to cause him as much pain as possible. He would guess he’s somewhere within Sundari, judging by what he can see of the room’s design and Ahsoka’s latest reports.

His breath catches. Ahsoka. Maul shouldn’t have been able to get Obi-wan past the 501st blockade of the planet. He’s supposed to be in the undercity somewhere, not here, in what feels very much like a professionally designed cell. He glances briefly up at his chains. Beskar and surrounded by an energy field. This technology belongs only in the dungeons of Sundari’s palace. Which means something has gone horribly wrong.

“Ah, I see you’ve figured out where you are,” Maul purrs. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Obi-wan’s heart pounds. He wants to speak, to say something, anything, but his mouth has gone dry. Words have failed him.

“My, my, the great negotiator, rendered speechless,” Maul says. “Fear not, your grandpadawan isn’t dead. Not yet.”

A flicker of hope ignites in Obi-wan before he can properly consider all the implications of what Maul has said. “What do you want?” Obi-wan asks.

“I want you to watch,” Maul says as he backs away. Chills crawl up Obi-wan’s spine as the cell door opens and a figure with a bag over their head is shoved inside. Obi-wan recognizes her as Maul yanks her bound hands to the ceiling and locks them in place. Unlike Obi-wan, he doesn’t give her enough slack to properly stand with. She’s balanced precariously on her tip-toes and breathing heavily beneath the fabric.

“No,” Obi-wan whispers.

“Yes,” Maul says as he rips the bag off her, revealing Ahsoka’s bruised and bloodied face. Her brilliant blue eyes sharpen in defiance until her gaze lands on Obi-wan. A shadow crosses her face as she realizes why she’s here. She knows enough of his history with Maul to put the pieces together. Obi-wan can’t bring himself to meet her gaze. This is all his fault. “I hadn’t even known who she was before coming here. She wasn’t relevant to my plans after all. But then you dropped her right into my lap and I found out she wasn’t just another Jedi. How could I resist?”

There’s no point in denying their connection. Maul has certainly interrogated the clones and found that the Skywalker and Kenobi duo is, in reality, a trio, one who’s final member is like a daughter to him. Maul knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Please, Maul,” Obi-wan says. His voice cracks. He hangs his head, trying to hide the coming tears. Maul tilts Obi-wan’s head up so he can see the smile that has broken out across Maul’s face. Maul already knows what Obi-wan would offer in exchange for Ahsoka’s life. He knows Obi-wan would grovel and beg and humiliate himself in every way imaginable. He knows Obi-wan would submit himself to any torture, just to spare her. And Obi-wan knows Maul will never give him that chance.

Maul turns around to face Ahsoka and pulls Obi-wan close to him. He keeps one of his hands firmly grasping Obi-wan’s chin, forcing him to look at Ahsoka. In the other hand is a remote, which he holds just within Obi-wan’s peripheral vision.

To Maul, Ahsoka is just a tool to cause Obi-wan pain. Ahsoka knows it. Obi-wan can sense her rage at that fact. He can sense her defiance and denial and disbelief and hope. He flinches when he senses that hope. She still believes in him, despite everything that’s happened. She still believes they’ll get out of this alive before Master Kenobi is here and surely Anakin isn’t far behind. He doesn’t know how to tell her the truth. He doesn’t know how to tell her that this is the end of the line, that their luck has finally run out.

Maul’s finger twitches against the remote and Ahsoka screams.

———

His throat is raw from begging and crying. His sobbing had only encouraged Maul. Nothing he had done, nothing he had said, had changed anything.

Obi-wan crawls across the floor of the cell, hands still bound together, but released from the ceiling, to Ahsoka’s side. She is crumpled on the ground, her breathing shallow and raspy. The electric shocks of her chains have already killed her, she’s just not dead yet.

He cannot save her. Instead, he tries to ease her way into the Force. He does not ask her forgiveness. He doesn’t deserve it.

Maul’s laughter echoes around him as Ahsoka dies. Her light fades. Her breathing stops.

Obi-wan gathers her broken body to his chest and screams.


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for excessive alcohol consumption

The mess hall is quiet this late at night. The galley workers have all gone to bed. A single droid lurks in the kitchen to assist the late night snackers. Obi-wan had gotten it to boil some water for his tea. He’d already drunk a pot of caf before the droid had cut him off. Any more was potentially damaging to humans.

He’s been up every night this week, unable to sleep after being woken up by nightmares. They’ve been getting progressively worse. Dreams of death and fire and screams have only gotten more vivid. In the beginning, it had been nothing but shadows. Now, every night is filled with agony. He wakes up sweating and in pain, the torments of his dreams fading slowly.

Obi-wan gently rubs his neck, unsettled by the feeling of having his neck snapped by Grievous and later by a man in a black mask. He can feel his enemies’ mechanical grip on his throat, slowly crushing it, then eventually putting him out of his misery, except he wouldn’t die. They would toss his body around like a ragdoll, then burn it. The sensations are getting more visceral. They don’t feel like dreams anymore. They feel like visions, but he can’t put much stock into them. The future is always in motion, after all.

The droid drops a cup and a pot of boiling water in front of him. Obi-wan picks one of his favorite teas and begins to steep it. It has just enough caffeine to keep him alert so that he can do his paperwork. And to ensure he doesn’t have to sleep.

Obi-wan stares down at his datapad. The words swim. His body is demanding rest, but his brain rebels at the thought. Dread fills him at the thought of sleeping. Another night of having his limbs broken and stripped apart unsettles him greatly. The dreams have become far too real.

He stills when he hears a distant conversation from deep within the galley. A few snickers follow. Obi-wan sets his datapad aside and goes into the kitchen.

He finds a squad of clones sitting around a still in the supply closet. They freeze, faces paling at seeing their general. They scramble to their feet, hastily hiding the cups of alcohol behind their back, and salute.

“Sir,” they say in unison. Obi-wan waves them off. He picks up one of the empty cups and sniffs it. He winces at the strength of it. He’s considers commenting about the dangers of alcohol and telling them to dismantle the still. Regulations are there for a reason. Moonshine can be dangerous, especially on a ship where battle is a possibility at any time. He plans on letting them off with a warning, after all everyone needs to blow of steam, but then an idea comes to mind.

The war is slowly chipping away at his soul. He has no doubt that the nightmares will only get worse as the war goes on. He needs a way to relax and sleep or he won’t be useful to the army.

Obi-wan’s gaze flicks to the still. Alcohol has always been fairly effective at suppressing his connection to the Force, when consumed in significant quantities. A diminished Force connection means no more visions masquerading as nightmares. No nightmares mean he can finally sleep.

“Have some to spare?” Obi-wan asks.

The clones look at each other, confusion on their faces before one of them, Chops, hands Obi-wan a bottle and points towards a nondescript keg. Obi-wan nods his thanks and starts to fill the cup. He senses the clones staring at him as he continues to fill the bottle with the strong alcohol.

“Uh, sir, that’s about 60% alcohol,” Chops says. “We have mixers. If you want.” Chops’s squad members elbow him.

“Jedi have a high metabolism,” Obi-wan says and finishes filling the bottle. This is certainly far more alcohol than he should ever drink, but he can save the rest for another sleepless night. The clones stare at him as he takes his cup and leaves.

“Sir?” Chops asks, voice quiet.

“Don’t let me catch you again,” Obi-wan says. “Good-night.”

Obi-wan walks back to his room before slumping onto his bed. He pours a small glass for himself and sets the rest of the moonshine aside. A few of these should be enough to help him sleep.

He swallows it. The effects are quick and immediately pleasant. He no longer feels the crushing weight of the future on his shoulders. For the first time in years, the pain is eased.

He glances at the rest of the moonshine. He pours a larger glass and swallows it. Then another. With each, the pain in his soul fades. His connection to the Force is numbed. His senses dull. He feels vaguely like he’s walking through honey. Death no longer clings to him. He no longer feels the echoes of his nightmare’s tortures.

He takes another glass. And another. And another. The Force fades away. The nightmares grow faint as he slumps back in his bed. The alcohol overpowers the caffeine in his system. And then he passes out, an empty bottle at his side.


	5. Tied to a Pole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for rape/non-con elements, violence

Dooku licks his lips as Obi-wan is led out into the sandy arena of Geonosis. Obi-wan has heavy chains around his wrists and is redressed in his Jedi robes after the Geonosians had stripped and tortured him for intel. He still manages to look dignified as he’s led forward by his chains and tied to the pole in the center of the arena. He looks beautiful with his arms stretched above him, leaving him completely vulnerable.

Obi-wan’s head turns towards him. Even from here he can sense Obi-wan’s disapproval. It’s unfortunate that Obi-wan couldn’t come around to Dooku’s point of view. He’s all that Dooku has left of Qui-gon.

And he’d make a beautiful companion.

Obi-wan looks up at his chains and tugs at them briefly before going still. It seems he’s still determined to meet a dignified end. He looks like the ideal Jedi, calm and composed even when facing death.

The Geonosians are starting to filter into the stadium. Obi-wan shifts under the hot sun. Dooku has no doubt his fair skin is starting to burn. He wonders if Obi-wan is the type to get freckles.

Dooku swallows as his emotions run hot. The Darkside is always pleased to see someone suffer, especially a Jedi as light as Obi-wan. It doesn’t help that he’s an attractive man with a beautiful accent. Dooku hadn’t been able to stop himself from watching the footage from Obi-wan’s cell. Trapped in that containment field, twitching occasionally from the electric shocks, Obi-wan had made quite an attractive image. It had taken all of his self-control not to go into Obi-wan’s cell and do terrible, terrible things to him.

The Darkside twists around him. It slips out of Dooku’s grasp before he can control himself. It flows through him and towards Obi-wan. The Jedi stiffens when the Darkside touches him. It caresses the Jedi’s shoulders and the bruised bones of his wrists.

Dooku shudders with pleasure as he senses Obi-wan’s fear and discomfort. He uses the Force to trace delicate fingers under Obi-wan’s clothes and over his vulnerable skin. He smiles when Obi-wan twitches and pulls on the chains.

His invisible fingers trail further down and around. He squeezes Obi-wan’s ass and smirks when the Jedi jerks. He can’t see Obi-wan’s face from here, but he can imagine the fear and alarm on his face, as well as the shadow of betrayal. He knows Obi-wan doesn’t believe Dooku could have fallen so far. Now he has more than enough proof to believe Dooku truly lost to him.

The stadium gates open and an acklay is led out. Dooku sighs with disappointment and chases the Darkside away. Distracting Obi-wan during a fight to the death would be a waste. The Geonosians want a show and Dooku can’t wait to watch.

The acklay screeches loudly. Obi-wan’s body tenses as he tries to fall into a defensive stance. The acklay clomps towards Obi-wan, screeching in delight. Its claws launch forward, but Obi-wan manages to get the chain in the way. It snaps and Obi-wan is released from the pole.

Dooku smiles. It would have been a disappointment if he’d been killed so easily.

The acklay dives forward, smashing through the pole as Obi-wan roles out of the way. The Jedi scrambles to his feet, but he’s unarmed and alone. He has no chance of survival. Obi-wan uses the Force to push the acklay away, but the acklay doesn’t move far, digging in its claws into the ground to stop itself. The Geonosians cheer as Obi-wan runs. He leaps over the acklay when it backs him into the wall. It’s a better choice than trying to leap out of the arena. It would only result in Obi-wan hitting the force shield and being zapped. 

The acklay chases Obi-wan around the ring, but Obi-wan manages to keep ahead of it. The Geonosians are starting to get bored, so the guards release a nexu into the ring. The feline chases after Obi-wan, easily outrunning the man. The two predators circle closer to Obi-wan, wearing him out each time he’s forced to leap out of the way.

The nexu’s claws catch Obi-wan across the back. The Jedi cries out and the Geonosians cheer. Obi-wan runs, but he’s not fast enough to dodge the next swing of the acklay. The beasts’ claw impales his back and pins Obi-wan to the ground. Obi-wan screams.

The Darkside bursts with joy as the acklay leans down and tears into Obi-wan’s body. 


	6. Chained to a Wall (sequel to chap 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ventress is enjoying herself. Obi-wan is not. 
> 
> (there was some interest in a sequel for chap 2. I hadn't planned one, but here it is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for injury and non-con elements

Obi-wan leans against the wall of Ventress’s ship as it leaves the atmosphere. A metal collar is locked around his neck with a chain connecting him to the wall. Ventress has taken all of his clothing but his pants, leaving him chilled and miserable. The metallic stiches over his mouth are still bleeding slightly, not yet fully healed. He had tried to fiddle with the knot but had found the metal melted into place by the Nightsister magick Ventress seems to have learned.

“Hello, darling,” Ventress says as she exits the cockpit. Her golden eyes glisten in the dim light. Obi-wan can only incoherently mumble his insults at her in response. Even that tugs at the metal strands causing him to bite back a gasp that would only have made the pain worse.

“On Dathomir, the Nightsisters believe that men are inferior to them,” she says. “The women select their own mates from the Nightbrothers, who will spend their lives into service to them. I found the tradition outdated, but it has its values, particularly in the magic they use to subdue their mates.”

Obi-wan tilts his head away from her as her cold fingers trace the stitches. He projects as much rebellion and refusal as he can into the Force. She pinches his cheek and smirks.

“But before we have our fun, we’re making a quick stop on Dathomir,” she says.

Obi-wan swallows. He knows only rumors of the activities of the Nightsisters. They are not friends of the Jedi, despite their general disinterest in each other. He knows Ventress’s powers will only grow stronger once they arrive.

He shores up his shields. He can only hope that they’ll hold, though he doubts he is powerful enough to protect himself from Mother Talzin.

“Relax, Kenobi,” Ventress says, sensing his anxiety. “I won’t take your mind from you. No, that would be far too boring. There are, however, a dozen other ways to keep slaves in their place.”

He slaps her hand away before she can pinch his cheek again. Her eyes begin to glow and a green mist trails over his arms, threatening to restrain him. He chooses to stand down, not wanting to lose any more of his mobility than he already has.

“Good boy,” she says.

Obi-wan rolls his eyes. She pulls on one of the threads over his mouth and he whimpers in pain. He wants to speak to her, to draw out whatever her reasons are for keeping him here, but he can’t. His one weapon he could always count on is gone. Frustration bubbles up inside him before he can release it into the Force, causing her to smirk. She knows exactly what she’s doing to him.

She holds out his lightsaber to him. He stares at it, then at her. It could be a test. She could be trying to provoke a reaction from him so that she has an excuse to hurt him, although she’s never needed an excuse before.

“You’re going to need a weapon if you want to stay alive,” she says. “Dathomir is not kind to outsiders.”

He narrows his eyes at her.

“You can’t strike me down. Even if you tried,” she says and taps his collar. It glows hot, allowing him to sense the magick in it now, the binding nature of it and the limits it places on him. “This will stop you.” The heat fades as she runs her fingers along it. “This one was expertly crafted by Mother Talzin for her former mate. Most Nightbrothers would consider it a great honor to wear it.” Obi-wan crosses his arms over his chest after attempting to scowl but finding that it pulled too much on the tight threads. “Once we arrive, I’ll be able to construct one just for you.”

Ventress holds out his lightsaber to him again. He still refuses to take it. He doesn’t want to play her game. The moment he does is the moment he loses.

“Come on, Obi-wan,” she says. “Surely I haven’t crushed your spirit already.”

He snatches the lightsaber away from her and flicks it towards the chain. Instead of cutting through it and freeing himself like he intended, his body freezes. A green mist floats over his skin as it holds him in place. The collar burns painfully against his neck.

“I told you what would happen, but we’ll consider this a warning,” she says. She waves her hand and the spell releases him. He stumbles upright and tightens his grip on his saber. “This particular collar is very demanding of its wearer. I’d release those rebellious thoughts of yours into the Force until we find something more suited to you.”

Her cold fingers trail over his shoulder, down his arm, and to the hand that grips his saber. “Be good, my dear,” she says before thumbing off the saber and leaving him.

Obi-wan sighs as he slides down the wall. The short chain prevents him from laying down as his exhausted body wants, so he pulls him knees up to his chest and holds his head in his hands. There’s no way out of this. Ventress knows him too well.


	7. Human Shield (Another sequel to Chap 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings- lightsaber injuries

Ventress yanks Obi-wan against her, holding him between her and the army of clones in front of them. Members of the 501st and the 212th are standing at the end of the hallway with their blasters drawn. Anakin stands with them. His lightsaber is ignited and casts a faint shadow on his enraged features. Obi-wan shudders as the collar grows warm. It demands he submit to Ventress. And he had. Eventually.

At first, he had fought her. He had done everything in his power to keep her away from him. She only laughed and waited for him to crawl back to her when the burning agony of the tight leather collar she had created for him grew to be too much. He stopped fighting her after a week. It was pointless to try.

He had done as she asked so long as he was the only one who suffered. That was the line he drew for himself, the one that kept him sane. That was the line he would never allow her to cross. He could survive anything else.

“Obi-wan!” Anakin yells.

Obi-wan stays still. It wouldn’t be the first time she cast an illusion that melted into mist the moment he thought he was free. And yet each time he had still tried to escape her grasp, only for his spirit to crack when he failed. She would punish him for it, but she did as she pleased regardless of his actions. He just wants her to stop hurting him. He’s too tired to risk fighting her now.

Ventress backs up, pulling Obi-wan along with her.

“Back off, Skywalker,” she says. Her lightsaber is held out in front of them, her other arm wrapped around Obi-wan’s neck. The lightsaber drifts slowly towards him. He doesn’t shy away from it. Why should he? If Ventress decides to burn him there’s no point in moving. There wasn’t any point last time either. It had only delighted her to watch him struggle to get away while she littered his body with burns.

“Put him down, Ventress,” Ahsoka says, her own sabers igniting as she and another squad of clones come down the hallway behind them.

Ventress twists around and backs towards the wall. It’s strange that Ahsoka’s here. Ventress doesn’t usually bother conjuring her. His attention turns to the clones, who’s armor is painted for a change and who seem far more animated than usual.

His grip on the arm around his throat tightens. He looks into Anakin’s eyes and nods. He tries to convey his desperation to be away from her, no matter the cost to himself. Anakin would never hurt him, but right now Obi-wan needs him to.

Anakin’s expression hardens and he charges forward. Ventress’s backpedals, but it’s too late. Anakin’s saber stabs through Obi-wan and into Ventress. Ventress screams as the saber burns her. Obi-wan tries to, but his lips are still stitched closed. All he does it aggravate the holes that have struggled to heal.

Ahsoka swings her saber and kills Ventress. Anakin dives forward to stop Obi-wan from hitting the ground.

The collar around his neck dissolves into mist, no longer fueled by her power. He sighs in relief despite the overpowering agony in his gut.

“Obi-wan, Obi-wan, I’m so sorry,” Anakin says. Obi-wan nods, not really listening to him. His eyes are on Ventress, sprawled on the ground with a saber wound to her gut and chest. Her dead golden eyes meet his. He shivers. “We’re going to get you help.”

More hands touch him. He wants to protest, but everything hurts too much. “The medics want to put you under. Is that okay?” Anakin asks.

Obi-wan nods and lets himself fall into the blissful embrace of sleep. His only hope is that he wakes up in a Republic medical bay and not Ventress’s lair. She’s going to be so angry with him.


	8. Sensory Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings- suicide mention

The Jedi Temple was once his home. Now it is his prison cell. Vader had sealed off several rooms of the Temple, including the creche, and confined Obi-wan within them. It would have been cruel enough to leave him here, surrounded by the echoes of torment and death, but Vader wanted demanded more after what Obi-wan did to him on Mustafar.

Obi-wan kneels in what used to be the creche. His head is partially encased by what resembles an x-wing helmet but is actually a device used to cut off his sense of sight, hearing, taste, and smell. He could reach out to the Force to help him control the growing instability in his mind, but he dares not. The Force is a monstrous, tortured being, stained by the horror that has occurred here. He can’t reach out again. Never again.

He breathes slowly. His lungs expand within his rib cage as the air flows in. His chest falls as he lets the air out. He breathes again.

Time is meaningless. He has no idea if it’s been days or years since Vader brought him here. He sleeps when he’s tired, but he has no idea how long he sleeps for. Without light, his circadian rhythm has likely been thrown off. He has no times cues. Even meals are without time. Ration bars sit in a heap in one of the corners for Obi-wan to have when he’s hungry. He had tried starving himself to death once, but the helmet had noticed and taken his sense of touch.

He had never tried to kill himself again after that.

Obi-wan gets up and circles around the room. Boredom is familiar now. It isn’t the torment it used to be. It is easy now to empty his mind of everything. He can just exist, without thought, without regrets. No pain. No emotions. Nothing.

He tells himself it is better than going insane. He wonders sometimes if he already has.

He scratches his neck, enjoying the sensation. It is soft, but satisfying, simple yet so beloved. He runs his fingers through his tangled beard. The gentle tug of his fingers through the snarls is wonderful. He touches the helmet. The metal is cool, smooth, and nice to touch. He had once clawed at it until his nails were broken and bleeding. He had smashed it into walls and beat his fists bloody on it. It never did any good.

Obi-wan had once begged and pleaded for mercy. Vader has no mercy.

He shoves the Force away from him when it tries to reach out to him. It has been trying more often now to break past the fortress of shields Obi-wan had built. It kept him inside and the Force out.

Without his senses to ground him, exposing himself to the Force was catastrophic. He had experienced it a dozen times over when he grew desperate for relief from the nothingness his life had become. Each time was a mistake. He felt the slashes of Anakin’s lightsaber when he cut down the younglings as if he were doing the same to Obi-wan. He felt blaster bolts tearing through his skin. He felt the shock and horror of every Jedi when the clones turned against them, betrayed them. And it kept building. The emotions and sensations would build until his throat was raw from screaming he couldn’t even hear.

The only way to free himself was with physical pain. Broken bones did the trick, though it wasn’t easy to break his arm in this nearly empty prison cell. It had taken patience and single-minded focus to do so, but he had managed it. Eventually.

Obi-wan shivers and returns to his mat. It has long worn thin, but it is more comfortable than the hard floor beneath it. He sees a rat run by. It makes for an interesting hallucination. They’ve been coming and going, though he knows his environment well enough now to recognize them immediately. They’re enjoyable now, despite the occasional horrific ones.

He yawns. He isn’t tired, but his body is weakening and his mind is no longer certain of what it wants. Depression weighs on his shoulders despite his attempts to keep it at bay. Sleep is a nicer alternative to trying to dig through his own mind and prevent it from deteriorating.

He still has dreams sometimes. They’re usually only voices, snatches of moments of a life that was once his, but now feels like it belongs to a stranger. This is his existence, this constant, endless nothingness. There is nothing more.


	9. Burns (another sequel to chap 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings for burns, suicidal thoughts

“How are you doing today?” Bant asks. She had stepped away from the battlefield when Anakin had called to tell her what happened to Obi-wan. Another mind healer had been assigned to him, but Obi-wan had shut down. He needs someone he trusts, so Bant had gotten permission for a temporary reassignment. 

Obi-wan is sitting on the couch across from her. He has only just started to open up to her. He had tried speaking to Anakin, but Anakin was too quick to anger. He was quick to try to fix things and to take vengeance, not listen. Anakin means well, but he can only fulfill the role of a friend, not the healer Obi-wan desperately needs.

“I didn’t sleep,” Obi-wan says.

“Did you have nightmares?” Bant asks.

Obi-wan nods.

“Can you tell me about them?”

Obi-wan squeezes the pillow he holds to his chest. It acts as a shield between him and the rest of the world, though he has yet to admit that to Bant or perhaps to even consciously realize what he’s doing.

“It was Ventress,” he says. “In the early days, before I…” His gaze darts around the room, looking at everything except Bant. “Before I gave in.”

“You did everything you could to protect your body and when you couldn’t, you did everything to protect your mind,” Bant says. “There is no shame in that.” She wants to reach out and comfort Obi-wan, but he has not responded well to touch. Only Anakin had been able pat him on the shoulder without getting thrown into the wall with an instinctive use of the Force. Anakin is trying to help Obi-wan readjust to the most casual of touches, but it is a slow process. “Tell me what happened.”

“She tied my ankles together so I couldn’t run,” he says. “And then she would burn me with a lightsaber. She liked to watch me scream and try to crawl away. I never made it very far. She’d laugh and then she’d strike me again. Over and over and over. She wouldn’t stop.” His eyes fill with tears, but he wipes them away before they have the chance to fall. “Even when I begged her to.”

“Was it her saber?” Bant asks.

“No,” Obi-wan says. “It was mine.”

“Is that why you won’t carry it anymore?” She looks pointedly down at the saber hooked to Obi-wan’s belt, which is actually one of Ahsoka’s. The padawan had killed Ventress with it. Somehow it reminded Obi-wan that she was dead, offering him a sense of comfort no one else has been able to provide. Ahsoka had offered her saber to him upon realizing how much it helped. Obi-wan had initially refused but hadn’t held up his resolve for long. He needed it to remind him that this is real and not another of Ventress’s illusions.

“I don’t want to remember,” he says. “But I can’t stop remembering. I feel the damage she did every time I move.”

“Helix says those scars have limited your mobility.”

Obi-wan nods. “He can’t fix everything.”

“You’ve gone through a terrible ordeal. Your body will always bear the scars of it, but they don’t have to hold you back.”

“They already do,” Obi-wan says. “Sometimes the pain is so bad I can’t walk.”

“That’ll improve with time, though it won’t go away. But you can learn to live with it. I promise you we’ll find a way for you to live with this.” 

Obi-wan’s strangle hold on the pillow relaxes. He sets it aside and meets Bant’s eyes in a rare display of confidence. “I don’t I want to.” 


	10. Taking the Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning - violence

“This is your fault,” Anakin says. 

Obi-wan stops himself from sinking into a defensive stance as Anakin stalks closer. Ahsoka left the Order a few hours ago, despite the Council’s offer to allow her to return. All of Anakin’s rage is centered on him instead of the Jedi Council. Perhaps it would be better for Anakin to be angry at him, than the Order. Anakin is in the mood to burn bridges. Obi-wan can’t let him burn what little connection he has to the Order.

“She made her choice,” Obi-wan says. He knows it is exactly the wrong thing to say.

“You abandoned her when she needed you most!” Anakin yells.

Obi-wan keeps his face blank. He hides his pain. He hides his regret and guilt and his wish that he could have done more. The Council had to present a united front, despite Obi-wan’s own objections. That was all Anakin had seen. That’s all Anakin is going to see. Obi-wan can take Anakin’s rage. And no one else will get hurt.

“I did.”

Anakin’s fists ball. “You fucking bastard,” Anakin says just before his rage overcomes his control. Obi-wan ducks out of the way of Anakin’s metal fist, but not the flesh one. He won’t let Anakin do irreversible damage. But he will take whatever else Anakin has to throw at him.

Obi-wan hits the wall, then Anakin’s knee slams into his abdomen. Obi-wan grunts as Anakin twists his leg around Obi-wan’s and uses it to flip Obi-wan to the ground.

“You abandoned her. After everything,” he screams and kicks until bruises are spreading across his chest, back, arms, and legs.

Obi-wan coughs as a phantom grip wraps around his neck. He tries to shield himself from the grip, but his own power is no match for Anakin’s.

His body is lifted from the ground. Obi-wan claws futilely at the telekinetic grip.

“Anakin,” he gasps out, but Anakin isn’t letting go. He realizes too late that he has miscalculated just have much rage Anakin has within him, especially directed at Obi-wan.

Obi-wan tries to push Anakin back with the Force, but Anakin barely flinches. He’s growing more desperate as dots appear in his vision. He projects his panic into the Force, but the grip only tightens. He tries to summon his saber in a desperate attempt to protect his own life, but Anakin catches it before it could reach Obi-wan’s hand.

“This is your fault,” Anakin growls. “And it is time for you to pay for it.”


	11. Addiction/Withdrawal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for slavery, drug addiction/withdrawal

She dumps Kenobi’s shivering body in the shower stall and turns on the spray. He jerks to but doesn’t make it to his feet before falling back on his ass. He whines and looks up at her with glazed eyes. The drugs the slavers gave him have done a number on his brain. And not even cold water is snapping him out of it. She’s seen what Sweetwater does to its victims. She wouldn’t wish that on anybody, except maybe Dooku. Unfortunately, the only way to help Kenobi is to cut him off. Immediately.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says.

Kenobi whines again and tries to crawl out of the spray. She shoves him back. There’s no way she’s helping him when he smells like he hasn’t bathed in a month, which is likely given what they’ve been doing to him.

“You’re going to get cleaned up, then dressed. Then we are going to dry you out got it?”

He blinks at her, his vacant eyes not comprehending. She rolls her eyes, turns up the temperature of the water, and hands him a bar of soap. That at least seems to trigger something. He sets to work stripping off his filthy clothes and cleaning himself off. She finds him a shirt and some pants, both a little too big for him, and hands them over once he’s dry.

“Come on,” she says.

Kenobi pads after her to the spare room. She cuffs one of his hands to the bed, giving him just enough slack to reach the refresher, but not enough to get out here. Withdrawal is unpredictable, especially in Jedi. She doesn’t want to deal with him trying to fight her. It wouldn’t end well for him.

She tosses a dozen blankets over him to help him sweat out the drugs. He pulls on the cuff and looks up at her, betrayal written across his face. She rolls her eyes

“This is for your own good,” she says. “Trust me.”

Exhaustion pulls him under before he can form a conscious objection. He relaxes under the blankets and begins to purr.

Ventress raises her eyebrow, then shrugs it off. Sweetwater makes its victims especially affectionate and somewhat spacey. It brings out the weird in everyone, particularly those who usually maintain a tight control over themselves. It helps to lower their boundaries, making them easier to break. He’s lucky she got to him so soon. Any later and he might already have been a mindless pet for someone.

She leaves him and locks the door behind her. He’ll be fine. Eventually.

\----- 

It takes four hours of nonstop pathetic whining and wailing to break her resolve to let Kenobi suffer alone. The part of her that would have loved to watch Kenobi suffer is gone now, worn away by her desire to change. The Darkside never got her anything. Her hatred for Kenobi was only a tool used by Dooku to make her even more desperate for his approval. She refuses to be Dooku’s slave again.

Kenobi is sweating and pale when she comes in. He perks up slightly when he sees her, but his bloodshot eyes are filled with pain. It must have been almost a day now since his last dose from the slavers she had rescued him from.

“Relax,” she says.

Kenobi valiantly tries to do what she says but can’t. Panic twists in her gut when tears begin to fall from his eyes.

“You’re doing great. Look at me. You’re doing great,” she says, trying to fulfill whatever desire for approval the drugs are imposing on him.

He whines and crawls towards her. She hesitantly pets his sweaty head and the Force fills with relief. She scowls. It’s just her luck that physical contact helps ease Kenobi’s symptoms.

She pulls her hand away and he mewls like she’s just dumped him out in the rain to starve. She rolls her eyes and wishes that they had drugged him with spice. Withdrawal from spice among Force sensitives was at least documented enough for her to know how to help medically.

“Scoot over,” she says.

Kenobi scrambles to the other side of the bed, making space for her to sit beside him. The moment she does, he curls at her side like an overgrown tooka.

In moments, he’s asleep.

\----------

She wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of Kenobi crying and shaking. Ventress crawls off the bed and finds Kenobi in the refresher, kneeling in front of the toilet.

“Ventress?” he says, then throws up again. She pats his back as his stomach finishes emptying itself in a desperate attempt to purge the lingering Sweetwater from his system. It’ll be a few more days before its completely gone and longer still before the cravings and withdrawal fade.

She hands him a wet rag to clean the flecks of vomit from his beard. He takes it and wipes his face clean. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“You got yourself captured by slavers. I rescued you. You’re welcome,” Ventress says.

“And this?” He shakes his cuffed hand.

“For my safety and yours. You haven’t exactly been coherent.”

“What’d they do to me?”

“Dosed you with enough Sweetwater to turn you into an addict.”

“And this is your solution?” he asks. He tries to stand up, but his legs give out and he falls back against the wall.

“Do you have a better one?”

Kenobi sighs. “You’ll return me to the Republic once this is over?”

“For a price. I still have to make a living,” she says. “But don’t worry. I have no interest in handing you over to Dooku.”

“Thank you, Ventress.”

“This is just payment for helping me out during that mess on Dantooine. Nothing more,” she says.

“Of course,” he says as she pulls him to his feet and sets him back in bed. She lays down next to him. “Uh, Ventress?” Kenobi asks, his face pinking slightly. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m going to bed.”

“Here?”

“Withdrawal’s only just starting and will only get worse. You need someone to watch over you. And you seemed to react well to physical contact, so here we are.”

“This isn’t necessary.”

“Trust me, Kenobi. You’ll thank me later.”

Kenobi hesitantly lays down beside her. It won’t be long before the withdrawal symptoms come back, but for now, he’s calm and relaxed. His presence is calming, reminding her of Dantooine and the week they had spent under rubble. He had kept her alive after her legs had been crushed by falling debris. It was because of him that she didn’t have to get them amputated once they were rescued. It was because of him that she was allowed to go free afterwards.

It’s about time she returned the favor.


	12. Theft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- panic attack

Ben shivers as the stranger’s aura crawls against his skin. It doesn’t belong here in his tiny home on the edge of the Wastes. He swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Someone’s been in here. Someone’s been rifling through what little he owns. They’ve contaminated it with their Force presence, violating his personal space. Never before has he felt like he owned his living quarters, but here on Tatooine, he’s no longer a part of a collective. He’s alone. And what little he has could easily be taken.

Ben carefully rights one of the books that had been knocked off the shelf. He reaches out into the Force to clear away the impression the thief left behind. It eases his nausea and allows him finally breathe freely.

But in the absence, he finds something else is missing. Ben rushes forward and grabs the chest he had kept hidden beneath a trap door under his bed. The lock has been broken and the lid is askew.

Dread coils in his stomach as he opens it. He had left the lightsabers here, believing his hut to be far safer than keeping them on him when wandering around Mos Eisley with its population of desperate or unsavory people.

The lightsabers are gone. Ripped away from him. The last remnants of his life as a Jedi. Gone.

No. Please, no.

His heart squeezes inside his chest. His stomach twists and burns. Tears stream down his face and he realizes he’s on the floor with no idea how he got there. He claws at his chest, trying to release the awful building pressure that can’t seem to escape. He can’t breathe.

Slowly, slowly, his breath evenings out. The horror fades to misery. The pressure eases, but he cannot escape it. His body feels like it’s been hollowed out. His soul feels as if it’s been torn away from him and ripped to pieces all over again. He had only just started to heal from the last time.

He scrapes himself off the floor and wipes the tears away. He needs to get out of here. The Empire will surely hear of lightsabers found on Tatooine. When they do, they’ll trace them back to him and Luke. Trying to get them back is a waste of what little time he has before the Empire comes. He can’t risk be hearing when they arrive.

Ben takes what supplies he can fit into a bag, which he slings it over his shoulder. He gathers what peggats the thief didn’t find and shoves the meager sum into his pocket. It’s not enough to buy a ticket off planet, but that can’t stop him. He has to leave, no matter what it takes.


	13. Another sequel to chap 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- flashbacks, trauma  
> This isn't technically a BTHB prompt, but this is where the rest of the Ventress AU chapters are.

It starts as a tickle in his throat that won’t go away no matter how many times he clears his throat. It certainly doesn’t warrant a trip to the healers, though he does mention it to Bant after she noticed him touching his neck. She had feared he was feeling the phantom weight of the collar again. He was glad to tell her it was something else.

Obi-wan locks and seals the door to his room after ensuring no one else was here. He pushes the desk in front of the door, though it isn’t much of a deterrent if someone actually wanted to get through. It makes him feel safer, so Bant had allowed him to continue barricading himself inside his room to sleep. He had so many other problems that Bant didn’t want to disturb his sleep anymore than it already was.

He makes himself a cup of tea and sits on his bed with a heavy quilt over his shoulders. It was a gift from his friends. They had imbued their Force signatures into the patches they had constructed and sent to Anakin to assemble. It helps calm him when the nightmares come.

The warm tea does nothing to soothe his throat as the tickle grows stronger. He coughs and a strange taste fills his mouth. His stomach twists as the tickle becomes a burn.

He coughs again and a wisp of green smoke falls from his lips. His chest squeezes and he coughs again, more violently this time. He scrambles for the refresher to get some water, but he doesn’t make it. His knees hit the floor, then his hands, as more smoke tumbles out of his mouth. He coughs and wheezes as the smoke keeps coming up.

And then she is there. Her Force presence fills the room as the smoke solidifies.

“You didn’t really think you could get away from me, did you?” she says.

All Obi-wan can do is stare at her as she drifts closer. He can’t move, can’t even breath.

“We are bound together. Our souls are linked, even in death.” She crouches down before him, still frozen on his hands and knees. Her chilled hand tilts his chin up. Her golden eyes glow as her nails dig into the delicate skin. “You are mine. Forever.”

“No,” Obi-wan whispers. The pain breaks through the haze of his mind and he scrambles away from her until his back hits the wall. “No.” His shaking hands reach for Ahsoka’s saber, for the assurance that came with the memories of seeing Ventress’s body on the floor, but she plucks it from his belt before he can ignite it.

“That little brat couldn’t kill me,” she says. “I am a Nightsister. The Force has freed us even from death.” 

“No,” Obi-wan says, but any explanations, any denials die on his lips as she pushes him back. The smoke ghosts around his limbs, threatening to restrain him, but not yet solidifying. His instincts demand that he flee but something deeper holds him in place. The Force crackles with darkness and a bond that should never have existed but now ties their very souls together.

“You are mine, Obi-wan,” she says. “And you will never escape me.”

——

The Force is flooded with panic as Anakin barrels down the halls of the starship towards Obi-wan’s quarters. Trooper leap out of his way, but he can’t stop to apologize. Something is terribly wrong with Obi-wan.

He forces open the door to Obi-wan’s quarters and flings the desk aside. He finds his brother backed against the wall, his face pale and his hands trembling. Obi-wan’s eyes meet Anakin’s. They’re startlingly clear despite the panic in the Force.

It must have been a nightmare, not a flashback. That’s good. The last flashback had resulted in Obi-wan needing to be sedated.

“Obi-wan!” Anakin says. “Obi-wan, look at me. It’s over. You’re safe.”

“She’s here,” Obi-wan gasps out.

“She’s dead, Obi-wan. Ahsoka killed her. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

Obi-wan shakes his head and backs away as Anakin tries to pull him into his arms as he had done a dozen times before when the nightmares overwhelmed him.

“It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Anakin gently settles Obi-wan’s quilt over his shoulders, but doesn’t ground him like it used to.

“She’s dead,” Anakin says. “She can’t hurt you.”

Obi-wan shakes his head. A few tears slip down his face.

Anakin summons Ahsoka’s lightsaber from where it had rolled across the room. He senses just the slightest whisper of another presence on it before it fades. Strange.

“She’s dead. I promise, she will never hurt you again.”


	14. Survivor's Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- mentions of character death

“You should eat,” Katooni says.

Obi-wan raises his head off his sweat-soaked pillow and finds the Jedi youngling sitting against the wall. “I’m fine,” Obi-wan says, then rolls to his other side so he doesn’t have to see her. The last time he had seen her was in the Jedi Temple, after the end of the war, with a hole through her chest and her glazed eyes fixed on the ceiling. He doesn’t want to see her again.

Anakin had killed her. Anakin had killed her because Obi-wan had left him alone. He should have taken Anakin with him, or even asked someone else to deal with Grievous in his place. He should have talked to Anakin about Padme or tried to reach out even more. He should have found some way to pull Anakin away from Palpatine.

He should have died with the rest of them.

“You have to take care of yourself,” she says. “Luke needs you.”

Obi-wan sighs. Any other Jedi would have been a better choice to watch over Luke. Mace would have made a wonderful teacher for him. He wouldn’t have been so consumed by misery and sorrow as Obi-wan is. He should have gone to face Grievous. Obi-wan should have stayed behind and been killed. It would have been better.

A dozen names float through his head, Jedi that had more knowledge of the Order’s history and traditions, Jedi that lived to meditate and bring peace to those around them, Jedi that were far better Jedi than Obi-wan ever was. They should have been the ones to survive. Not him.

“Master Obi-wan,” Katooni says, but it’s not Katooni anymore. It’s Ahsoka, her eyes blank and a hole in her head. Rex was too good a soldier to let her live. And even if he had failed, Anakin would have hunted her down and killed her.

“You have to get up,” Ahsoka says.

Obi-wan sighs. He doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Soon enough his sense of duty will override his sorrow and then he’ll drag himself out of bed, choke down some snake stew, and go check on Luke.

But not today.


	15. Impaled Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- character death

“Anakin, you have to go,” Obi-wan gasps out.

“I won’t leave you,” Anakin says. The padawan is mostly unscathed, unlike Obi-wan. A rebar through his chest has pinned him to the remnants of the concrete building they had been standing in minutes ago before a bomb had blown it apart. But Anakin can’t stay here and wait for the emergency crews. Whoever did this will come to make sure the bomb did its job and they’ll likely be much closer.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan says as he clumsily grabs the twelve year old boy’s hand. “You have to go get help.” 

“No, I won’t leave you!” Anakin says. “I won’t let you die.”

Obi-wan takes a shuttering breath. He’s already dead. His lungs are filling with blood and on the verge of collapse. But Anakin still has a chance if Obi-wan can convince him to run. “I’ll be fine,” Obi-wan says, using what little strength he has left in the Force to keep his voice steady. “It missed anything important. But you have to get help before I bleed out.”

Anakin blinks up at him. “But your lungs—”

“They’re fine. But you have to go. Now, padawan,” Obi-wan says with as much command as he can muster.

Anakin hesitantly draws away. “I’ll be right back,” he says and breaks into a run towards the city.

Obi-wan watches him go, then closes his eyes as the Force slips from his grasp. Anakin will survive. That’s all that matters, even if Anakin hates Obi-wan for making him leave.

Blood spatters across his lips and chin when he coughs. He’ll be dead before Anakin even reaches the city, let alone makes it back.

It seems he won’t get the chance to raise Anakin to knighthood as he promised.

Someone else will care for him and train him. Someone else will teach Anakin his katas. Someone else will sit at Anakin’s side as he struggles through his homework. Someone else will cut his braid.

Tears slip down his face. Anakin will be a spectacular knight. 

Even if Obi-wan never gets the chance to see him.


	16. Setting a Broken Bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning- violence, injury

Quinlan drags himself across the floor of the cell. His body is weak and numb from the electricity Bane had shot through his body. Had it just been Bane, they would have been fine, but the bounty hunter hadn’t come alone. Apparently, the bounty on Obi-wan’s head had attracted more interest than intelligence had suggested. Once Bane had realized both him and Obi-wan were chasing Ziro, the bounty hunter had gathered some backup. And that brought them here.

Quinlan heaves himself up so that he can lean against the wall. His legs are totally useless, but the numbness should pass eventually. It’s an unfortunate quirk of Kiffar biology in response to electricity.

“Obi-wan?” Quinlan says. He nudges his friend, who’s still sprawled out on the ground. Obi-wan had been subjected to a severe beating from one of the Mandalorian bounty hunters that had been with Bane. “You okay?”

Obi-wan groans in response.

“You shouldn’t be on your back.”

Obi-wan groans louder and tries to swat Quinlan’s hand away from where he’s poking him in the shoulder.

“Come on, Obi,” Quinlan says.

Obi-wan shifts slightly but doesn’t make it off his back. He’s bruised and bloodied and one of his legs is broken. Apparently, Obi-wan’s past involvement in Mandalore had stirred up some resentment.

Quinlan shifts over towards Obi-wan. He doesn’t want Obi-wan to choke on the blood from his broken nose, so he helps Obi-wan sit up. Obi-wan growls in protest but submits to Quinlan’s help.

“Relax. It’s a clean break. It won’t mess up your pretty face,” Quinlan says.

“How fried are you?” Obi-wan gets out.

“Bane knew what he was doing, so we’re not going anywhere. Think you can move over here? I can set the break.” Obi-wan groans again. “Come on,” Quinlan says. “You don’t complain this much when Skywalker’s around.”

“Only for you, Quin.”

Quinlan huffs a laugh, then shifts around so he can reach Obi-wan’s leg. “This is going to hurt like hell.”

“Get it over with.”

Quinlan closes his eyes and uses the Force to ease the swelling and pain. Obi-wan forces his breathing to slow and even out. It’s not the first time they’ve patched each other up. It’s not even the first time they shared a cell, though it’s been almost a decade. After Obi-wan had been knighted, they hadn’t seen much of each other. They’d both been busy with their padawans. Quinlan had hoped this mission would be an opportunity to reconnect.

Looks like they’ll have plenty of time for that.

Quinlan yanks on Obi-wan’s leg and the bone falls back into place. Obi-wan shrieks and spasms, then falls still. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Obi-wan grits out. 

Quinlan rolls his eyes. There’s no reason for Obi-wan to lie to him, but he knows pretending he’s not in pain is part of Obi-wan’s instinctual need to protect him. He had once thought it was cute, but now it verges on annoying. Quinlan needs to know what’s going on with Obi-wan if they’re going to get out of here.

“Bane’s going to sell us to the Seppies if we don’t make a plan,” Quinlan says.

“Why don’t you come up with the escape plan this time?” Obi-wan says.

“Because you’re better at it. You’re the one who gets captured all the time.”

“I do not.” Obi-wan’s jaw clenches and he breathes sharply. His hand balls into a fist. Quinlan takes Obi-wan’s hand. Obi-wan needs to relax or the pain will only get worse. He rubs small circles on the back of Obi-wan’s hand as his fist slowly uncurls.

“Rumor has it you flirted your way out of your last cell,” Quinlan says, trying to distract Obi-wan again. He has no doubt the pain is nearly overwhelming.

“Don’t be absurd,” Obi-wan says.

“Then how’d you get out?”

“I hacked the door panel.”

“With that trick I taught you?”

Obi-wan hums neutrally but doesn’t deny it. Quinlan smiles. It was a skill taught to Shadows, but Obi-wan had needed it far more than Quinlan ever did. Quinlan knew how to blend in. Obi-wan was nearly incapable of it, so he played the role of diversion or distraction, which would often end in him being captured. Quinlan used to make fun of him for it, but it was effective, especially when Obi-wan and Skywalker worked together. Quinlan wished he and Obi-wan could work together like they did.

Obi-wan sucks in another sharp breath. A few stray tears slip down his face. 

“Hang in there, Obi,” Quinlan says. He pats Obi-wan’s hand. “I’ll figure something out.”


	17. Gunshot Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- injury, infection, mentions of death

Obi-wan’s forehead is hot and clammy beneath Cody’s hand. Cody winces and returns the wet rag to Obi-wan’s head. It isn’t doing nearly enough to lower Obi-wan’s fever, but they don’t have any other options. They’ve already used up all the fever reducers and bacta patches to fight the infection from the bullet lodged somewhere in Obi-wan’s thigh too close to the artery for Cody to dare to remove.

“General,” Cody says and gently shakes Obi-wan’s shoulder. “You need to drink some water.”

The Jedi squints up at him through glassy eyes, then falls back to sleep. His moments of lucidity are becoming rarer as the days stretch on as the infection gets worse. At this rate, rescue will be here too late. His brothers will arrive to find a dead Jedi in Cody’s arms, dead because Cody had been too slow, because Cody hadn’t been good enough to protect him.

It should have been Cody. He should have known Obi-wan wouldn’t have been able to deflect bullets the way he deflected blaster bolts. Then they wouldn’t be here, holed up in an abandoned building on the outskirts of a city turned against the Republic. The only reason they hadn’t been discovered was because Obi-wan had been aware enough to redirect the patrols with the Force.

They don’t have that advantage now.

“Come on,” Cody whispers and pats Obi-wan’s face. “I won’t let you die on me.”

Bleary and bloodshot eyes open slightly. “Cody?” Obi-wan says.

“Come on, you need to drink some water.” He taps Obi-wan’s face again when his eyes drift closed. “Stay with me, Obi-wan.”

“You called me Obi-wan,” the Jedi mumbles with a smile.

“Yes, sir,” Cody says, then smiles too when Obi-wan frowns in response. He helps Obi-wan sit up slightly and holds out a cup of water. “Drink.”

“Tired,” Obi-wan says and turns away. Cody sighs. Obi-wan has only been getting more uncooperative as the fever renders him unable to realize what’s best for him and unwilling to do anything more than sleep. Cody has had to practically force him to eat and to allow Cody to change the bandages on his thigh.

“Come on, Obi-wan. I promise you can go back to sleep afterwards.”

Obi-wan groans but sits up enough to allow Cody to feed him a few mouthfuls of water. Most of it ends up on his sweat-soaked shirt when he coughs, but he swallows enough that Cody is fairly sure he won’t die of dehydration.

Obi-wan is asleep again by the time Cody sets him back on the ground. The commander’s stomach twists. The heat radiating off Obi-wan’s body is only increasing. He checks the bandages and infected flesh beneath them. The red streaks have only spread and grown darker. It won’t be long before the infection gets into the blood.

And then his Jedi will be dead.

Cody closes his eyes and takes Obi-wan’s clammy hand. He’s already lost so much in this war. So many brothers, dead before they’ve even had a chance to find their names. More will die. Cody will survive as he always does. And he will do everything he can to make sure Obi-wan does too.

“Hang in there, General,” Cody says. “We’ll be okay.”


	18. Kick Them While They're Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning- torture, manipulation

His shoulders and wrists are aching by the time he comes too. The cuffs are wide enough that they don’t cut too deeply into his wrists, which would be nice, if the extra width had not been used to house a Force inhibiting field.

Obi-wan shifts his weight onto his feet. The ache in his shoulders and wrists doesn’t let up, and likely won’t until he’s had a dunk in a bacta tank. This certainly isn’t a physically safe restraint position, but he doubts anyone would listen to his complaints. The Separatists have had very little respect for prisoners of war, especially when those prisoners were Jedi.

He tugs lightly on the chain holding his cuffed hands above his head, wincing as it agitates his bruised wrists. It holds firm. He briefly considers trying to yank the chain out of its anchor point, but the bolts on the ceiling are heavy and welded into place. The locks on the cuffs are electronic and leave him with little hope of picking or even breaking the lock. The tiny electrodes he finds on the interior are probably there to shock him should he try to tamper with them.

Wonderful.

He shifts his weight from one foot, then to the other. Anakin will never let him hear the end of it if he has to come rescue Obi-wan again. However, escaping on his own isn’t looking like much of an option. There’s a rather sizable airduct in the ceiling, a design flaw on most Separatist ships he will forever be grateful for, but the ray shield over it will keep him out even if he could free himself from the chains.

The cell door slides open with low hiss. And Obi-wan almost laughs aloud. Clearly, they hadn’t wanted to wait for Grievous or a proper interrogator. He’s barely been waiting long enough to be nervous about what’s coming. It would have been a clear indication of his new opponent’s inexperience if the ridiculous get-up he had chosen hadn’t been indication enough.

The dark, velvet cloak the man stands within is almost cartoonishly large. The clothing underneath is covered in gold pendants shining so brightly he must have polished them moments before arriving.

It’s actually rather flattering the man felt the need to dress up for the occasion.

The accompanying guards hang back in the doorway, their blasters well out of Obi-wan’s reach. He supposes it’s too much to hope that his new friend would have made such an obvious mistake.

“Hello there,” Obi-wan says with a smile he knows irritates his enemies to no end. They always demand submission, which is easy enough to deny them, even when he’s bruised and bloodied. It really doesn’t take much effort. “I’m Obi-wan Kenobi. Who might you be?”

The fist to his gut is exactly the answer he expected. His interrogator is young and inexperienced, prone to allowing his emotions to rule him. He’ll make a mistake, which Obi-wan will be happy to exploit.

Eventually.

Another punch to his stomach knocks the wind out of him. Obi-wan lets the smile fade slightly. The interrogator smirks.

“I want your communication codes, Jedi,” the man says.

“And I want a warm bath,” Obi-wan says. “And perhaps a vacation.” The slap to his face isn’t a surprise, but it had been far too difficult to resist the opening. Perhaps he’ll get in a few more witty one-liners before they gag him and effectively end the interrogation.

“We’ll see how long that famous Jedi resolve holds out.” The man draws a pair of sheers from his belt and swiftly cuts through Obi-wan’s belt.

Obi-wan isn’t sure what exactly the man was expecting, but he clearly doesn’t get it. With a huff of irritation, he quickly attacks the rest of Obi-wan’s tunics, shredding and removing them with far less ease than the man was probably hoping for.

“You could have at least bought me a drink first,” Obi-wan says with a wink.

The man’s face twists with disgust. “As if I’d ever waste my time with you, Jedi scum,” he says. The small cluster of butterflies in Obi-wan’s stomach dissolves. He’s not dealing with a sexual sadist. That won’t save him any pain, but at least the man won’t be too creative with it. This isn’t the kind of man who has spent hours contemplating how to make people like Obi-wan scream.

The sheers are soon replaced by a heavy baton. “Give me your access codes,” the man says. “Or suffer the consequences.”

Obi-wan wonders if the man had practiced that line in the mirror before arriving here. It’s far too theatrical not to be rehearsed.

The blow is heavier than Obi-wan expected and forces bile up his throat. He coughs it out, narrowly missing the man’s polished shoes, much to Obi-wan’s disappointment.

“Disgusting,” the man mutters. Obi-wan raises an eyebrow. What had the man expected? Surely, he knows enough basic anatomy to know what happens when a human is hit in the stomach hard enough.

Another blow strikes, harder this time, not to his stomach, but to his knees. His wrists and shoulders protest as all his weight is forced onto them. He quickly gets back to his feet.

More blows faller, each one harder than the last. Blood dribbles down his arms when the cuffs finally break through the skin.

They’re a dozen blows in before Obi-wan realizes his mistake. This is no inexperienced interrogator. He’d put on a show, but the strikes are too precise and powerful to belong to a first time torturer. None of the hits have even come close to fatal. The strikes to his back have avoided his vulnerable kidneys. The blows to his chest were hard enough to rattle his ribcage, but not to break the bones. Painful, yes, but not serious.

All designed to keep him alive long enough to answer their questions.

Frustration won’t lead to the man making a mistake. He’s too in control of himself and far too practiced to grow frustrated quickly enough for Obi-wan to be physically capable of taking advantage of any mistakes.

But anger might.

The butterflies are back, fluttering wildly inside him. This is going to hurt. A lot.

“That the best you can do?” Obi-wan asks. “I’ve been hit harder by younglings.”

The next blow is harder, but still precise. Not losing control.

Obi-wan twists with the next blow, easing the impact and allowing him a moment to think. The man expects derision and overconfidence. He knows the methods of torture resistance and probably has a pharmacy of drugs prepared to prevent meditative states and dissociation at hand. But he’s too young to be truly experienced. It’s what made his initial ruse so effective.

So, Obi-wan does what he does best: endures.

He endures the beating and what follows. Small, circular burns spread across his back, then around to his chest, from brands, acid, and electrodes, each more painful than the last. His teeth crack as electricity, high voltage and low amperage, is sent though his body so many times he loses count. The blood on his arms grows tacky, then dries.

He does not scream or whimper or cry out. It takes every ounce of self-control that has ever been drilled into him to keep his mouth shut. The pain is only growing, the man turning up the voltage with each passing minute.

But it’s working.

The man’s movements are less calculated. His experience is bleeding through the façade he had maintained. Tension is building within him as he finds himself unable to make Obi-wan scream.

The man stops and shrugs off his ridiculous cloak. He knows by now he’s revealed his skill to Obi-wan. There’s no point in pretending further, so he won’t hold back any longer.

And Obi-wan will have to help him along.

“You’ll find the synthetic nerve cluster under my arm to be particularly sensitive,” Obi-wan says.

The man freezes, moments from jabbing the electrode into Obi-wan’s spine again. “What?”

“The healers had to replace it after a speeder accident several years back. It works well enough, but it isn’t as integrated into the body as organic nerves, leaving it unprotected and far more responsive.”

“Why would you tell me that?” the man asks, circling around Obi-wan with narrowed eyes.

“It seems like you need some help. As a Jedi, it is my sworn duty to be of assistance to you.”

“Then give me your access codes.”

“That would result in many lives lost. I cannot allow it. But I am, otherwise, at your service,” Obi-wan says with his most pleasant smile.

The man scowls and jabs the end of the electrode under Obi-wan’s arm.

The choked-off scream that follows is uncontainable. The electricity rakes over the fragile synthetic nerves and through the rest of his body. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake, a sense of being burnt from the inside out.

Obi-wan sucks in a breath of air when he regains control of his body. He had seriously underestimated how much this would hurt.

The interrogator is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Not a bad start,” Obi-wan says.

The man’s eye twitches. There’s a script to these meetings that Obi-wan knows he isn’t following. The taunting and derision are supposed to be aimed at the man’s disguise, not for his true self. The interrogator is supposed to be in complete control of everything here. The man had depended on that control, needed it to keep himself balanced.

But Obi-wan has no intention of giving back control. 

“Increase the voltage and try again. Normally I’d suggest experimenting with other body parts, but you don’t seem particularly patient.”

“Shut up,” the man says.

“Come on,” Obi-wan says, smiling with blood-covered teeth. “What are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

“I—” His eyes dart over towards the door and the guards.

“Come on!” Obi-wan yells. “Do your fucking job and hurt me!”

The man is crumbling, but not into rage. He’s on the verge of tears, his ego torn to shreds before an audience that he had probably struggled to gain the respect of. The guards are already shaking their heads and smiling amongst themselves. Laughter will follow before long.

Obi-wan can’t let him flee. The moment he’s gone, all progress will be lost. By the time he’s recovered, Grievous or another of the Separatists will have arrived. And they’ll be more than ready to counter Obi-wan’s manipulations. “Or are you too much of a coward?” Obi-wan asks.

Finally, a spark of rage. And then the electrode jabs into his side again.

There is pain, more pain than there should be, but Obi-wan doesn’t care. He’s so close.

“You missed,” Obi-wan says.

The man snaps. His hand darts forward and grabs Obi-wan’s jaw. “You think you’re so fucking great, don’t you? Look at me!” Obi-wan bares his teeth as the man’s nails dig painfully into his skin. “I’m in control! You’re just another mouthy prisoner that doesn’t know how to speak to his betters.”

“My betters? I’d hardly call you—”

The man punches him in the mouth, breaking his own fingers on Obi-wan’s teeth.

It’s the mistake Obi-wan’s been waiting for.

The man gasps through the pain, then glares up at Obi-wan with hatred in his eyes. Obi-wan glances pointedly at his hands with a smirk. “I don’t need my hands to hurt you, Jedi,” the man growls.

He releases the chain holding Obi-wan to the ceiling. And Obi-wan falls. Agony crashes over his body, through the burns and bruises, through numb arms and hands as the blood flow returns, through aching legs that had been standing for too long.

Then the kicking starts. “Stupid fucking Jedi! You freaks should have stayed in your fancy temple where you belong, away from the rest of us! This isn’t your war!”

Obi-wan grunts when the man’s boot slams into his back. He casts a quick glance at the guards. They’re watching, but not moving in. Perfect.

He takes one final breath as the feeling returns to his fingers. This is going to hurt. So much.

Obi-wan grabs the man’s ankle before he can hit him again. The man screams when Obi-wan sharply twists, breaking the bones. The guards are on him a moment later, bringing their blasters within grabbing range of the Jedi.

It takes only seconds more to finish them off. 

Obi-wan collapses against the wall, breathing hard. His entire body screams in protest of each movement, but he can’t wait here any longer. No doubt someone is watching the security feed of his cell. And if they aren’t, Grievous’s armies will be here soon enough to cut off his escape.

He spits blood from his mouth, then crawls over to his dead jailers. Their frozen eyes stare at him. He swallows. There was nothing else he could have done. He didn’t have the physical strength left to face them in hand-to-hand combat and there were no stun settings on their blasters.

But they weren’t trying to kill him, just to contain him. They were living beings. They believed they were doing what was right.

Obi-wan closes his eyes and stops that line of thought before it gets away from him. He did what he had to do to defend himself.

And he’ll likely have to do it again the way this war is going.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

He digs through their pockets and finds the cell door override, but no release key for the cuffs around his wrists. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. They wouldn’t have planned on using it.

The dull hum of the ray shield above him suddenly stops. He looks up at the air vent it had once shielded and finds a familiar face looking down at him.

“Padme!” he says with a smile, before considering that blood-stained smile can be rather unpleasant.

“Obi-wan,” she says, but doesn’t return the smile. “I guess I’m a little late to rescue you.”

“I’m still glad to see you. I take it that Anakin is outside providing a distraction.”

“He was supposed to,” Padme says as she drops down from the ceiling. She’s unusually stiff and shifts subtly away when he steps towards her.

She’s afraid of him, he realizes. How long was she watching from the vent, waiting for the chance to come to his aid? How much did she see?

He never intended for anyone he knew to see him in those moments where he stood toe to toe with enemies and forced them to back down. He kept this ferocity tightly contained, even around Anakin and Cody. They were never meant to know the Obi-wan that was just as capable of violence and manipulation as their enemies, if not more so.

“Are you alright?” he asks her.

Padme finally pulls her gaze away from the dead and meets his eyes. Her posture straightens. “We should go,” she says and hands him an override key for the handcuffs.

“Through the vents?” he asks as he undoes the cuffs. She nods.

He shudders as the Force returns to him. He uses it to dull the pain as it starts to cut through the adrenaline, then nods to Padme.

“I—” Padme says, then stops. She’s noticed the way he’s standing away from her and kept his hands within her eyeline. “I know you’d never hurt me.” She looks down at his bloody hands. “I just, I’ve never seen this side of you. It scared me.”

“All Jedi are capable of great violence, Padme,” Obi-wan says. “It is part of why we are sworn to peace and justice.”

“But not like you can,” she says, then smiles at him, but it’s too tight and unnatural to be real. He can sense her fear now, even as she tries to tell herself not to be. “I suppose it’s a good thing you’re on our side.”

The whole building shakes before Obi-wan can respond.

“That would be Anakin’s distraction,” Padme says. “Let’s get out of here.”


	19. Being Watched

There have been eyes on Obi-wan since the day he returned from Naboo with Qui-gon’s lightsaber on his belt and the title of Sith-killer.

But it was only the Jedi then, and eventually the staring eased. The whispers died down, along with the rumors that he had Fallen to the Darkside when he killed the Sith, though they were never silenced. The Council stopped looking askance at him and began welcoming his thoughts and analysis as he proved himself a valuable negotiator and diplomat.

And just when he thought he was free of the stares, on a path towards becoming a skilled, but not overly scrutinized Jedi knight, the war began. He became a Councilor and general. The public’s eyes turned to him and the Jedi.

They demanded peace.

Obi-wan tried to give it to them.

But he was only one man, even with the entire galaxy’s eyes on him.

Their holocams followed him during battles, capturing every stroke of his saber, every shouted order. The reporters found ways to get to him. They bribed military officers and called in favors from senators to acquire the clearance they needed to board the _Negotiator._ Not even the Temple was safe, though the Temple Guards had gotten much better at keeping out both the curious and nefarious.

They had never needed such strict security before.

All rooms on the _Negotiator_ were equipped with holocams, even Obi-wan’s rooms. Some senators had gotten that bill passed in the name of security, though everyone knew it was just another way to keep control of the Jedi, to remind them that they were beholden to the Senate. Those eyes were always on him, when he slept, when he showered, when he meditated.

They scrutinized every inch of him, ensuring that he was exactly what they needed for their propaganda: a face of an unpopular war. Another Jedi easily blamed for every failed campaign, for every life lost.

The clones watched him, though they pretended not to. They adjusted overtime, but the staring never stopped. The feats Obi-wan achieved in battle were nothing short of impossible for someone without a Jedi’s training, without the Force. He would always attract their attention and curiosity.

They meant well, but their eyes still made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Even the Jedi stared, though their eyes were always sad. They witnessed his slow deterioration as the war dragged on and his soul began splinter. They were there in the gardens where they mourned their dead, their eyes on him as he begged forgiveness from a master who would have rather seen him dead than a soldier again.

The eyes followed him, even when he tried to get away, when he sought out just one moment of peace, one moment away from their constant scrutiny.

But they would never leave him alone long enough to allow it.

They would never allow him the chance to break in private. Their crushing grip held him together when he no longer had the strength to do it himself.

One day their grip would slip.

One day.

And then Obi-wan would finally be free.


	20. Home Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings- slavery

Ben senses them long before he arrives home. They are the only sentient being for miles after the Tuskens moved north with their Bantha herds and easily picked out within the currents of Tatooine’s deserts.

It gives Ben plenty of time to mull of contingency plans and possibilities depending on what they’re here for, which does little to calm the rising anxiety in his chest. They’re certainly not from the local bar. Ben’s pretty sure his tab is paid, and if it wasn’t, the bartender would have harassed Ben himself instead of sending someone else. He doesn’t think he’s offended anyone too terribly lately, though some people took insult to his presence regardless of his actions. He was still an outsider in Anchorhead, though he had made some progress fading into the background.

He can only hope it isn’t someone from the Empire, as unlikely as that is. Had the Empire known he was here would have come with an entire fleet and an army that outnumbered the entire population of Tatooine.

Ben can deal with anything else, no matter the cost to himself. All that matters is protecting Luke.

Rooh, his eopie, coos at him as the crest the final ridge. No doubt she smells their uninvited guest.

“It’s alright,” he says and pats her side.

He slides off her, then guides Rooh into the shade beside his home and unsaddles her. She’ll be fine here for a while, though he would much prefer to settle her into her little barn. Unfortunately, their guest is growing impatient.

“It’s alright,” Ben says again as she begins to whine. “I won’t be long.”

He gives her one final pat, then pushes open the door and heads inside.

A blaster three inches from his face is there to greet him. Ben slowly drops the supplies he had retrieved from Anchorhead and raises his hands. The woman holding the blaster steps out of the shadows, revealing a scarred face and an unhealthily skinny frame.

“Don’t move,” she says.

“Alright,” Ben says. “I don’t want any trouble.”

She sneers at him, but not with the same malignance he associates with Jabba’s thugs when he had crossed paths with them in Anchorhead. It lacks the condescension and arrogance that always grated on Ben’s nerves, though he could never do anything about it. Here, he was supposed to fade away. Not fight another war he had no chance in winning. Not do anything that would draw attention to him of Luke no matter how much he longed to help others.

She tosses him a length of rope taken from the barn. He sees the signs of her searching throughout his hut, but again, it’s without the desire for destruction he would have expected. Not one of Jabba’s, not someone looking for him in particular.

She’s an escaped slave.

The realization both calms and worries him. She probably won’t kill him, considering she hasn’t done it already, though it’s not outside the realm of possibility. What really worries him are the bounty hunters that will no doubt follow. The bounty on escaped slaves is alarmingly high, especially with the Hutts helping to finance the bounties to ensure that slavery remains alive and well on Tatooine. And with bounty hunters comes the terrifying possibility of being recognized.

“Tie your legs together,” she says. The blaster remains trained on him, the safety off. He could take it from her easily enough, but he won’t. She’s likely here for supplies before disappearing into the Dune Sea and hopefully escaping her pursuers.

He won’t take that chance from her.

He kneels when she directs, then falls to his stomach so she can hogtie him. The rope is far too tight and immediately cuts off circulation. Ben winces, but she doesn’t seem to notice. He rolls onto his side when she stands up to collect a few bags of supplies she must have gathered from among his things earlier. She sweeps over his home again and finds a small stash of credits she missed.

He watches her a moment longer, then closes his eyes and uses the Force to loosen the ropes. He wiggles his fingers, checking the circulation, then stills when she glances back at him.

Restocking his supplies will be a problem. He hadn’t had many credits saved to begin with, nor did he have a reliable source of income when the bantha herds were gone.

Well, a few months of living off snake won’t kill him. Probably.

She doesn’t say anything else to him as she finishes her sweep, then carries the bags outside. Rooh coos softly as he hears her being resaddled.

He wonders how the woman got out here without an animal or speeder. She couldn’t possibly have walked from Anchorhead. Then again, desperation is a powerful ally. And the possibility of freedom is enough to keep anyone moving forward.

She returns to grab the rest of the supplies but stops. “The hunters will arrive by the time the second sun sets,” she says and returns a small handful of credits to their hiding place. “You can barter with them for a ride back to town.”

The woman makes for the door. She doesn’t untie him, which is a kindness he had not expected. Assisting escaped slaves was a capital offense. The ties shifted the blame away from him and would probably have saved his life.

She had no reason to be kind to him, no reason to even leave him alive. But Tatooine did not teach cruelty to its children. It taught many, many harsh lessons, but never cruelty. 

She steps out into the sunlight with the supplies and shuts the door. He hears Rooh’s soft footsteps receding over the sand, the woman’s presence in the Force fading with the sound.

“May the Force be with you,” he says when she’s out of earshot. The coming night will be freezing, but he does not doubt she will survive and find her way to freedom. Though perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to throw the hunters off her trail. It wouldn’t be all that difficult, even without revealing his face to them.

Maybe he didn’t have to fade away just yet.


	21. Toxic Gas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one today. Nothing further ever came together in a way I was satisfied with.

Obi-wan drifts in the Force, nearly detached from his body. It is a great expanse, an ocean so much larger than any that could ever exist. It breathes with him, in him. It binds him to a galaxy full of life and suffering, connecting him to the very lifeblood of the cosmos.

He teeters on the brink of losing himself in its embrace.

His body lays on the floor of a cell filled with toxic gas. He’s so deep into a meditative trance his vitals are nearly nonexistent, but it is the only way to keep from breathing in too much of a gas that would rip apart the delicate tissue of his lungs with ease.

Death is only a breath away.

The tether that connects him to his body is thinning. He drifts further out, touching planets and lives that are beyond the reach of the Republic. He senses explorers on the edge of space known to them. He senses voices, screaming out for something, anyone to hear them. There are children out among the stars whose parents will never return for them despite their constant, endless cries. The void swallows them all.

Beyond them are the Ones, the deities of the Force that exist beyond death, beyond time. And beyond them is something more powerful still. Something ancient and strange, beyond knowledge, beyond belief, beyond all that has ever existed and will ever exist.

He reaches out to it.

And it reaches back.


	22. Natural Disaster

“Come on, Skyguy!” Ahsoka yells from the water’s edge. She’s surrounded by dozens of members of the 212th and the 501st, all of them stripped down to their blacks as they splash through the warm water. There hadn’t been enough credits to buy everyone swimsuits, but there had been enough credits for some beach balls and umbrellas and there is more than enough beach for the two battalions to enjoy.

It’s been marvelous. Obi-wan had spent the entire day laid out on the sand under an umbrella the medics had set up for him after his skin had begun to pink. He’s halfway through his second book and sipping a glass of cool lemonade. Cody is napping in the sand beside him, partly buried by a sandcastle some of his brothers had started building on him before Obi-wan had waved them away. Cody had never been particularly fond of pranks.

Obi-wan lazily stretches out and sets his book down. There’s no paperwork to do, no battle plans that need his strategic advice. He’s fairly certain the Council is running interference between him and the GAR, but for once, he’ll let them do it and allow himself to enjoy the day.

“The water’s great!” Ahsoka yells again.

Obi-wan twists to glance up towards where Anakin is sitting in the shade of the tree line. He’s the only one that had refused to even step onto the sand, but he’s not the only one up there. Some of the troopers had joined him after deciding they weren’t interested in swimming.

“The shade is even better!” Anakin yells back.

Ahsoka shakes her head, then dives back into the waves. She’s a strong swimmer, confident enough to navigate the waves and aware enough of the danger to be safe about it.

Well, mostly. Padawans trained for ocean swims, but there was never anything quite like the real thing. The clones grew up on Kamino with its rough oceans, so Obi-wan isn’t too worried about them, even if some of the medics are. Several of them are stationed across the beach acting as lifeguards, complete with rescue buoys.

Obi-wan closes his eyes. It seems like Cody has the right idea. However, if he does fall asleep, he has no doubt he’ll wake buried under a sandcastle. At least it will probably get Anakin out onto the sand.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, general,” Rex says. His footsteps still kick sand onto Obi-wan’s shirt despite his care. “We’ve got sandwiches.”

Obi-wan sits up and accepts the carefully wrapped sandwich from Rex. “Where’d you get these?” Obi-wan asks.

“As it turns out, enough bread and peanut butter for a battalion isn’t as expensive as we thought. A bunch of the gunners got together to make them. Apparently, it’s their new favorite bonding exercise,” Rex says.

That sounds suspicious, especially considering the gunners usual bonded over finding new ways to blow stuff up, but Obi-wan is certain Rex had handled it, otherwise Obi-wan would be smelling smoke and hearing something exploding.

“Hey, Codes,” Rex says, purposefully stomping over to Cody and kicking sand all over him in the process.

“Fuck off, Rex,” Cody says.

“You’re the one who’s always getting on my case for not eating often enough,” Obi-wan says.

“Same here. So, eat up,” Rex says.

Cody scowls, then pulls his legs out of the sand and takes the sandwich from Rex. He eyes the grains of sand that had made their way into the peanut butter.

“It won’t kill you,” Obi-wan says.

Cody shakes his head, then shifts to lean back against the sandcastle as he eats. Rex runs off to get the rest of the troops out of the water. It doesn’t take long before they hear him shouting orders over the sound of the crashing waves.

It’s perfect up until the moment a chill runs down Obi-wan’s spine. He reaches out into the Force, but none of the troops are projecting distress. There’s no one lurking nearby with malicious intent.

“I have a bad feeling,” Obi-wan says.

To Obi-wan’s surprise, Cody jerks upright and makes a dive for the bag he had brought with him. “Where’s my blaster?” Cody says.

“I don’t think—”

“Obi-wan,” Cody says, his voice suddenly small and unsteady.

Obi-wan follows Cody’s gaze to where the ocean should have been. “Fuck,” Obi-wan says. “Run. You need to fucking run, right now.” 

“MOVE!” Cody yells, his voice amplified by Obi-wan and a touch of the Force.

The troops snap out of their daze. They know what a receding ocean means once they get past the novelty of it.

A blue wall grows by the second on the horizon.

The troops will never make it.

“Anakin!” Obi-wan calls, but Anakin is already at his side. He’s seen it. He’s made the same calculations Obi-wan has. And he knows they have only one chance at saving everyone.

“Ready?” Anakin asks.

Obi-wan nods and stretches out his hands. The Force rushes through him and Anakin, building and building, as it rushes towards the oncoming wave.

A crack resounds when they impact.

Anakin is a supernova beside him as they push back against the wave, trying to contain it, to stop it, anything to save the men that are fleeing behind them.

But all they can do is slow it down.

Obi-wan digs deeper inside himself, drawing upon every moment of peace and harmony he has ever experienced, every moment of joy and love that he experienced as a Jedi. He is the solid wall built to hold back the battering of any enemy’s forces, the calm standing against a storm.

His hands shake. His knees bend as the ocean’s strength pushes steadily onwards.

Until a new light joins them, its wings unfurling to fill the gaps between Obi-wan’s steady presence and Anakin’s supernova.

Ahsoka, some distant part of him realizes, despite Anakin’s orders that she run too.

But even together, it isn’t enough.

The first drops of ocean spray hit his hands.

Obi-wan collapses into the sand, his strength depleted. Ahsoka falls soon after, her eyes bloodshot and terrified as she stares at the wave towering over them.

He tries to reach out to her, tries to say good-bye. It’s not how he imagined he would go, but he supposes it could have been worse.

His eyes, having drifted closed, jerk back open when hands grab his arms and yank him backwards. He blinks up at the metal ceiling of the gunship he hadn’t heard coming, its engines drowned out by the rumble of the ocean. Ahsoka and Anakin follow moments later, nearly landing on top of his as the gunship rockets away from the tsunami.

Obi-wan barely has the strength to lift his head when they’re finally clear of the wave. Anakin is completely passed out and has bloody tears trickling down his face. Ahsoka doesn’t look much better. Rex kneels at their sides, relief plain on his face.

“I got you,” Cody says as he sits down and pulls Obi-wan against his chest. “You’re safe.”

“You came back,” Obi-wan says. 

“No one gets left behind.”

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts on my [Tumblr](https://geodax.tumblr.com/)


End file.
